Sundered Blood
by Starsister12
Summary: Samantha has lived in Hogwarts for as long as she can remember. What is her connection to Harry and his friends? Will she discover the long lost secrets of her past? And if so, what will the price of knowledge be? Focuses on OC, covers most of all 7 books
1. Unusual Rescuer

**Author's Note: This story covers all seven Harry Potter books, though some in more detail than others. The plot is centered around my original character, Samantha, but takes place at the same time as Harry's adventures. Samantha interacts with nearly all of the main and key characters and participates in many key events in the story. Some events in the books change due to her presence. I tried to work her into the HP universe as best I could, but there will be some jumping around since Samantha isn't seen very often by Harry or his friends until **_**Prisoner of Azkaban.**_** I will try to summarize what goes on when Samantha isn't present, but it won't be very detailed. You'll just have to reread the books if you want to put in all the details. ;-) Please note that I am NOT trying to belittle the achievements of Harry and his friends, this story just has a different focus than J.K. Rowling's brilliant masterpiece. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 1

_**Unusual Rescuer**_

Harry tore down the dark hallway, Ron, Hermione, and Neville at his heels. The room with the three-headed dog was behind them…but so was the caretaker Filch, who would be more than happy to drag them up to the Headmaster's office demanding their expulsion. Filch must have given up cursing at Peeves and now he was back on their trail. Harry had been willing to risk expulsion over death when faced with the monstrous dog, but now that they were out, he wanted to avoid being sent back to the Dursley's, if at all possible.

"Keep…going…" he panted. "Almost…there…"

The three of them turned a corner and slammed into a blank stone wall.

"You led us the wrong way!" Hermione hissed, bushy hair flying everywhere, brown eyes furious and afraid.

"That's it," Ron groaned, running a nervous hand through his red hair. "We're done for."

Neville could only pant, eyes wide with fear.

Harry turned around, ready to face Filch's gleeful wrath. He could see the light from the lantern bobbing closer and closer.

Suddenly, a soft voice spoke from the darkness, making them jump. Hermione smothered a scream.

"Running from Filch?" the voice asked.

Harry stared up at a young woman who seemed to materialize from the shadows. He had only a quick impression of wide blue eyes and pale gold hair before she swirled a long cloak in front of the breathless students, pressing them against the wall.

"Stay silent and don't move," the woman said in a low undertone. Then she raised her voice, saying, "Mr. Filch? Is that you?"

Squished next to Neville and pressing Hermione and Ron against the wall, Harry held his breath as he heard Filch's footsteps come closer and stop.

"Why, Miss Samantha!" said Filch, sounding both respectful and surprised, which was a rather unusual combination for him.

"Yes, it's me," said the woman Samantha. "Making the rounds, are you?"

"Yeah, well, I was chasing some students a moment ago…"

"Students?" Samantha said, sounding surprised. "I haven't heard anyone stirring all night besides Peeves. Where did you see them?"

"Here on the third floor, near the forbidden corridor," Filch answered, positively gleeful. Harry could almost see the gnarled little caretaker rubbing his hands together in anticipation of a capture and expulsion. "Before Peeves distracted me," he added with a snarl.

Samantha's voice was concerned. "Near the corridor? That's not good. They didn't go into the corridor…did they?"

"Ah, no, I don't think so…"

"Perhaps you should check again," the woman said. "I'll keep searching here, if you'd like. I'd hate for any students to be injured under our watch. Professor Dumbledore would be most upset if that happened."

"The Headmaster is too soft on rule-breakers, he is," Filch muttered.

"Perhaps," Samantha agreed soothingly, "but I don't think death is a fitting punishment for being out of bed at night. In any case, it's not our decision; only Professor Dumbledore can decide these things."

"True," Filch replied, "but they'll still wish they'd never been born when I catch them. Let me know if you find them, Miss Samantha."

"Of course," she replied. "Good night, Mr. Filch."

The woman waited for what seemed like an eternity after Filch's footsteps faded away before stepping away from the wall. "Are you four alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks!" said Harry. "I thought we were toast!"

Neville looked up and stuttered out his own thanks as well.

Hermione looked slightly suspicious. "Who are you?" she asked, "and why did you help us?"

"Hermione, don't be rude," Ron said. "Who cares why she helped us; the point is that she did!"

"But we _are_ out after hours!" Hermione protested. "We're breaking the rules! Any teacher who finds us is supposed to—"

The woman held up her hand. "Ah, but that is where you are mistaken. I am not a teacher here."

Hermione stopped in mid-tirade.

Harry looked up at their rescuer, finally able to get a good look at her. She was tall and slender, and rather young; she couldn't have been any older than twenty. Her pale golden hair was thick and long, hanging down to her waist. Most of her long bangs were pulled back out of her face in a flat ponytail, save for one unruly piece that fell into her light, sky blue eyes. Her skin was very pale and her face was gentle and kind, with a mouth that seemed naturally curved in a slight smile, like she was always mildly amused by something. But there were some subtle differences about her, something that set her off from the rest of the staff Harry had seen at Hogwarts. The robes she wore where cut differently, more like a long-sleeved black tunic with tight sleeves and a high collar combined with a black skirt that reached only to her calves. Instead of shoes, she had tall, comfortable-looking black boots. The long cape she'd used to shield them from Filch seemed somehow out of place with the rest of her attire, something added on rather than being part of the outfit. Plus, her eyes, though they had a gentle expression, seemed strangely blank and she wasn't looking directly at any of them, but at a point slightly behind them or over their heads. And she wasn't carrying a wand, not even in the black belt around her waist.

"Who are you?" Harry asked curiously.

With a smile, the woman bowed. "Yes, I have not properly introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Samantha Halfward. I work as a maid here at Hogwarts."

"A maid?" the four chorused in unison.

Samantha looked amused. "Yes, a maid. You didn't expect all the cooking and cleaning to be done by itself, did you?"

Harry thought of all the food that appeared in the Great Hall every day. "You do all that…by yourself?"

Again, Samantha smiled. "No, I'm not the only one who cooks and cleans. But come. The corridors are no place to be at night and if Mr. Filch returns, I do not think I can throw him off the scent a second time." She started to turn away, but Hermione's voice stopped her.

"Wait!"

Samantha turned back, head cocked to one side, expression blank.

"Aren't…aren't you supposed to report us to our House Head?" Hermione asked.

"Hey, are you _trying_ to get us into trouble?" Ron hissed.

"I see no reason to inform Professor McGonagall of this incident," Samantha replied serenely. "Now come on. I'll take you back to Gryffindor Tower."

Samantha led them unerringly through the dark halls. Every now and then she would pause, as if to listen, before motioning them onward. In almost no time at all, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found themselves outside the painting of the Fat Lady, returned from her evening stroll.

"Goodness gracious, dears!" the Fat Lady cried, seeing their disheveled appearances. "Where in the world have you been?"

"It's alright, they were with me," Samantha said softly. "No harm was done. Pig snout, if you please."

"Well, that's fine then, as long as they were with you…" answered the Fat Lady, obligingly swinging open the portrait door.

"Now, off to bed with you," Samantha said. "I'd advise you against any more nighttime travels, but I doubt that will stop you."

"Thanks again for helping us," Harry said.

She smiled. "Not at all. Oh, and Mr. Neville Longbottom?"

Neville looked up, startled. "Y-Yes?"

"If you ever find yourself locked out again or forget the password, just tap the wall, speak my name, and I will come."

"O-Okay," said Neville. "Th-thanks. But…how'd you know my name?"

Samantha smiled. "I make it my business to recognize all of the staff and students in Hogwarts." She bowed. "Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Ron Weasley, Mr. Harry Potter, I bid you all good night." With those parting words, she straightened from her bow, turned around, and disappeared into the darkness.

"Well, that is unusual!" the Fat Lady chuckled as the foursome clambered through the portrait. "Samantha doesn't normally show herself to students, even first years!"

Before Harry could pursue that particular train of thought, Ron interrupted with frantic musings about why on earth anyone would keep a humongous three-headed dog locked up in a school. Hermione's scathing replies ("Didn't you see what it was standing on? It's guarding something." "I'm going to bed before either of you think up another clever way to get us killed, or worse, expelled!") didn't exactly help him concentrate. Soon, Harry, Ron, and Neville were safely ensconced in their beds, and the sheer exhaustion that comes after a near death experience put away his questions about the mysterious Samantha Halfward until another day.

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	2. Sensitive Fingers

Chapter 2

_**Sensitive Fingers**_

Harry didn't see Samantha again until his second year at Hogwarts.

By this time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were fast friends after surviving a troll attack, the various enchantments guarding the Sorcerer's Stone in the forbidden third-floor corridor during their first year, and the various incidents that had plagued them since the start of their second year, namely Mr. Weasley's flying Ford Angela versus the Whomping Willow and their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the foppish Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry hadn't had any time to really think about their mysterious rescuer, let alone asking anyone about Samantha. With all that had been going on, it didn't seem that important.

But that was soon to change.

It was Halloween and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were leaving Nearly Headless Nick's Death-Day Party in the dungeons, since such massive congregations of ghosts were not exactly comfortable affairs for the living. They were walking up to see if they could get some food from the feast in the Great Hall when Harry suddenly froze.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Shhh! Listen, can't you hear it?" Harry asked, gripping the stone wall and squinting down the dark passageway. It was the same voice he'd heard in Lockhart's office during detention while addressing fan envelopes. The same deathly voice filled with ice and bloodlust. _"…rip…tear…kill…time to kill…"_

Harry began to run. "It's moving this way!" he shouted, hearing the voice move upwards through the walls as if it were a ghost. Confused and concerned, Ron and Hermione pelted after him.

_"…blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"_

Ice raced through his veins. "It's going to kill someone!" yelled Harry, racing up to the second floor, Ron and Hermione in tow. However, when they reached their destination, no one was there.

"What in bloody hell is going on, Harry?" Ron demanded. "Running around the school like a—"

Hermione gasped, pointing. "Look!"

There were words scrawled on the wall in what looked like blood, an ominous message of doom.

" 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware,' " Hermione read, her voice trembling.

"And look," Harry whispered, his gaze rising from a reflection in the puddles on the floor of the corridor to a torch bracket. "It's Mrs. Norris." Sure enough, dangling from the bracket, lamp-like yellow eyes budging, was Filch's scrawny gray cat.

Ron grabbed Harry's arm. "Come on."

Harry hesitated. "But shouldn't we…"

"Trust me," Ron said grimly, "we don't want to be seen here."

But it was too late. The murmur of students heading up to their dorms from the Halloween feast had already grown into a roar and people poured into both ends of the passage. Then, as if by magic, the happy chatter and noise died away at the sight of the still form of Mrs. Norris, the terrible words on the wall, and the three white-faced students beneath it.

Draco Malfoy pushed his way to the front, read the message and sneered at Harry and his friends. "Enemies of the Heir beware! You're next, Mudbloods!"

Before Harry could reply, the last person they needed to see started pushing through the crowd. "What's going on here?" Filch demanded, glaring at Harry…and then his angry gaze fell on the motionless body of Mrs. Norris.

"Mrs. Norris?" Filch whispered, his face first contorting with horror, and then twisting into a mask of hate. "You've murdered my cat!" he shrieked, lunging for Harry's throat. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

"_Argus_!"

It was Dumbledore, with several teachers, including Professor McGonagall, Lockhart, and Snape. Dumbledore took a second to absorb the scene, and then swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione to take Mrs. Norris down from the torch bracket. He turned to the students. "Everyone will return to their dormitories immediately. Prefects?"

With a sullen murmur, the students began to disperse, led to their respective dormitories by the prefects and the other teachers. Dumbledore looked at Filch.

"Argus, come with me," he said. "You three come as well, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," he added.

Lockhart, looking far too chipper for something of this severity, stepped forward. "My office is the closest, Headmaster. Feel free─"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore answered. Harry and his friends followed Dumbledore, the sobbing Filch, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Lockhart. Harry wondered how they were going to explain this one.

The numerous portraits of Professor Lockhart, which moved, just like all the other portraits throughout Hogwarts, vacated the premises as the group entered the office, due to the fact that most of them were wearing hair curlers. Lockhart lit some candles on his desk where Dumbledore placed the still-immobile form of Mrs. Norris. Professor McGonagall and Snape remained out of the way, watching Dumbledore examine the cat while Harry, Ron and Hermione remained silent onlookers. Filch had collapsed weeping into a chair while Lockhart made various unhelpful comments and suggestions. Harry couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Filch, despite the fact that Filch had tried to expel him without remorse on numerous occasions.

Finally Dumbledore straightened from his close examination of Mrs. Norris, his quiet voice cutting through Lockhart's descriptions of how he had saved numerous people from dying of the Transmogrifian Torture.

"She isn't dead, Argus," said Dumbledore.

Filch looked up. "Not…not dead? Then…why is she all st-stiff and fr-frozen?"

"Mrs. Norris has been Petrified," Dumbledore announced (Lockhart of course adding his own wholehearted agreement), "though I cannot explain how this occurred—"

"Ask him!" Filch shrieked again, pointing at Harry. "It's him that did it! You saw what he wrote on the wall! And he-he knows that I'm—that I'm a Squib!"

Harry remembered the Kwikspell letter he'd seen on Filch's desk that the caretaker had been so eager to hide, but the word "squib" meant nothing to him.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said. "I don't even know what a Squib is!"

"Rubbish!" Filch snarled.

"And even if Harry did know," said a calm, quiet voice from the shadows, "why would he take it out on Mrs. Norris? What would the purpose be? He isn't the kind of person who tortures other living creatures for fun."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to see a familiar figure stepping from the darkness, hands folded demurely before her.

"Samantha!" cried Harry.

The young woman smiled and inclined her head, hair gleaming gold in the candlelight. "We meet again, Harry Potter," she said. "Ron, Hermione, it is good to meet you again as well." Samantha raised her head, the smile fading back into a calm mask. "You summoned me, Headmaster?"

"Yes, Samantha" said Dumbledore, glancing curiously at Harry and his friends. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

Inclining her head once again, Samantha walked over to where Filch sat and knelt down beside him. Her grace and calm in the face of such a puzzling, and potentially dangerous, event helped to ease some of the tension out of the room. "Mrs. Norris will be fine, Mr. Filch," she said in her soft, soothing voice. "Being Petrified is not a permanent state; she'll be back to normal in no time."

"But…but he—" Filch began again, starting to point at Harry.

Samantha put a gentle hand on Filch's arm, guiding it back to his side. "Harry did not do this," she said. "He may be a little reckless at times, but he's no Dark Wizard."

"If I may, Headmaster," Snape said from the shadows as Harry's sense of foreboding increased, "perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other. What was this? Snape had made it obvious by his treatment of students in his Potions classes that he hated all Gryffindor students, Harry in particular. So why was he defending them? There had to be a catch…

"However," Snape continued, and Harry's heart sank, "the circumstances are very suspicious. Why was Mr. Potter in the corridor rather than at the Halloween feast?"

The three friends quickly explained about the Death-Day party, but even that was not enough to convince Snape.

"And so you were going to return to your rooms without any dinner?" Snape said, a sneer at their feeble story curling his lip.

"We weren't hungry," Ron answered definitely…as his stomach gave a guilty rumble. Snape's triumphant smile widened.

Harry noticed that Samantha had remained standing silent through most of this, staring blankly into space, but he had the eerie sensation that she was following the conversation very closely. Then, she stepped forward.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said, "Could you tell me what happened? I heard the students talking as I was replying to your summons, but I cannot always believe the rumors they spread. They said there was writing on the wall…?"

"Yes," answered Dumbledore. "Young Harry and his friends were standing by the petrified Mrs. Norris, who was hanging from a torch bracket—" (here Filch gave another moan) "—with the message 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware' written in blood on the wall."

"The blood is not human," Samantha said immediately. "It is the blood of a bird, though what kind I cannot say. How high were the letters?"

"How could you miss them?" Ron muttered under his breath. Snape shot him a nasty glare and Ron clamped his mouth shut. Samantha pretended not to hear as she asked Dumbledore a series of quick questions.

"Would you examine Mrs. Norris?" Dumbledore asked Samantha. "Perhaps there is something you can find that we missed."

Samantha nodded. "Of course, Professor." She walked over to the desk and laid her hands on the motionless cat. However, unlike Dumbledore, she did not look at Mrs. Norris, but kept staring straight ahead at the wall as she ran her hands meticulously over the cat's body. It was such a strange sight that Harry couldn't help but stare, trying to make sense of it. What kind of strange magic was she using?

The woman must have felt their eyes upon her, for she suddenly said, "I sense that you are dying to ask me something, Miss Hermione. What is it?"

Hermione flushed and bit her lip.

"Come now," Samantha said gently, never ceasing the careful, searching movements of her fingers. "Don't be shy. What is it?"

Again, Hermione hesitated before blurting out, "You're blind, aren't you? That's why you asked Professor Dumbledore about the writing and what it said…because you can't see it."

Harry's jaw dropped. _No way,_ he thought in amazement. _She knew who we were last year in the corridor, and again when she came in today! How…?_

"That is correct," Samantha replied serenely. "I am blind. But that does not mean my other senses have been rendered useless. Taste, touch, scent and sound have all sharpened and provide more than enough information for me to identify the locations and identities of people and objects. And I have a few other…_compensations_ to make up for my lost eyesight, good memory and fast reflexes being among them."

By this time, Ron's jaw had dropped as far as Harry's.

"I'm sorry," was all Harry had to offer, though he knew that words couldn't be adequate comfort for the loss of one's sight. He tried to imagine what life must be like for Samantha, always living in darkness…but he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Another smile flickered across her face. "Don't be," she said. "It isn't your fault. And I don't mind. People tend to underestimate me when they find out I can't see…and that gives me the advantage."

"Ah, you're in luck then, my dear!" cried Lockhart, diving for a stack of papers on his desk. The sudden sound a movement made Samantha pause for a split second, turning her head slightly in Lockhart's direction. "It just so happens I have the recipe for a draught guaranteed to restore sight loss of all kinds! Worked like a charm in Whurry—"

"Thank you," Samantha interrupted smoothly, "but I think I'll leave any medicinal treatments to the Potions Master."

Harry and Ron glanced at one another. She sounded so unconcerned…was it possible she didn't know how slippery and evil Snape was?

"Potions probably won't help though, will they?" Hermione said softly, almost to herself.

Samantha cocked her head slightly in Hermione's direction. "Very astute, Miss Hermione. Professor Flitwick wasn't exaggerating when he spoke of your powers of observation."

Hermione blushed. "How did you…?"

"I hear everything," Samantha replied. "Sooner or later the stones will hear and what the stones know, I know." She lifted her hands from Mrs. Norris and stepped back, eyes cast down in thought.

Dumbledore's half-moon glasses flashed in the candlelight. "What have you discovered?"

Samantha's pale face was very still, blue eyes revealing nothing. "There is something dark lingering here," she said slowly, "the scent of dark magic, but it is diffused so I do not know who may have cast this spell. However, I do know that whoever or whatever it may have been took Mrs. Norris almost completely by surprise."

"How can you tell?" Ron asked.

"By her muscles," Samantha replied. "Her body is still frozen in a half crouch, hackles just starting to rise, meaning that she was just becoming aware of a presence when she was hit with the Petrifying spell." The young woman lowered her voice further, blue eyes glowing in the low light. "Cats have very good senses, senses that are far superior to anything humans possess. Something that is careful enough and silent enough to get that close to a cat as wary as Mrs. Norris bodes ill for us all."

Silence met Samantha's pronouncement, allowing the implications to sink in.

"So…whoever did this may not even be human," Professor McGonagall said grimly.

"Quite possible," Samantha said calmly, "even likely."

"How can you be so calm?" Harry demanded.

Her blue eyes turned and somehow fixed upon his own. "Would you prefer it if I ran about like a chicken with its head cut off?" Samantha inquired. "Getting upset won't help matters. It only obscures clear thinking." Harry lowered his gaze, suitably chastised.

"Samantha, have you, in your travels, found any hint of the location of the Chamber of Secrets?" Professor McGonagall asked. "You know the school better than almost anyone—"

But the young woman was already shaking her head. "I have searched, but found nothing. Some places within Hogwarts are closed, even to me, and the stones are silent on the matter of the Chamber, so it may...or may not...exist."

"Have you asked about this attack?" asked Dumbledore.

Samantha shook her head. "Shall I ask now?"

Dumbledore's keen gaze fell on Harry, Ron, and Hermione, as if debating on whether or not to let them stay. Finally he nodded. "Yes."

Without any sign of hesitation or confusion, Samantha walked across the room to the wall and removed a pair of Lockhart's portraits, carefully setting them to one side to clear a space of blank grey stone. Then she placed her hand on the wall.

Harry felt a weird sort of pressure building in the room, something that felt heavy like thunder yet sparked and chattered along his teeth like lightning. It seemed like there should have been a strong wind whipping around their robes, the sense of _movement_ was so strong, but the air was still. Samantha murmured something in low tones, unclear words in a language he couldn't understand, yet burned his throat like fire and stung his fingers with a cold so bitter that it too burned. Beside him, Hermione shivered, wrapping her arms around herself while Ron twitched like a nervous horse surrounded by snakes.

Yet, Harry still felt like he understood what she was saying. Not the actual words, but the general meaning, a sense of questioning in terms so strange and deep that it was barely recognizable as a question. It was something old and primal, something that spoke of deep, dark places and slow secrets.

Samantha removed her hand and the strange feeling lifted from the room. She turned back towards Dumbledore, a slight frown on her face.

"They refuse to answer," she said, a hint of frustration in her voice. "All I can glean is 'essence of stone' and 'waiting'. Perhaps I can learn more if I try where the message is."

"Thank you for trying," said Dumbledore. "If the stones tell you anything more…"

"I will be sure to inform you at once," she said.

"Wh-what _was_ that?" Harry asked.

Samantha turned her face towards him as Professor McGonagall asked, "What do you mean, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stared at the teachers. "You…you didn't feel that?"

"My dear boy, I think the stress of the evening is getting to you," said Lockhart genially.

"Feel what, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall persisted, eyes pinning Harry to the spot.

"That…that weird feeling…"

"Like ice," Hermione whispered.

"And thunder rolling inside you," added Ron.

"Like fire and lightning," said Harry, looking at Samantha. "It was like…like words of pure fire."

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged glances, while Snape watched Harry with a cold, calculating look in his eyes.

Samantha's face was studiously blank. "You could…could you understand me?" she asked carefully.

Harry frowned, trying to put it into words. "I couldn't understand what language you were using or what spell, but I could─ I don't know, get a feeling of what you were doing. You were asking someone…something. It was like one big question mark." He stopped, feeling foolish.

Ron and Hermione were looking at him. "I didn't really hear anything like that," Hermione said, "but it was…

"Really weird," Ron supplied. "And I mean, really, _really_ weird."

Samantha was silent for a moment, head lowered. "No one has heard or felt that much before," she said slowly, as if also trying to put into words something that was too great for the mind to grasp. "I thought only I heard those things."

She raised her head, once again uncannily managing to meet his eyes. "May I ask the names of your parents?" she said abruptly.

Harry blinked. "My…parents? Um, Lily and James Potter."

A slight frown flickered across her face. "And your mother's maiden name?"

"Er…Evans," Harry said, suppressing his curiosity for the moment. "Lily Evans. Why?"

Samantha didn't answer, head lowered once more. "I will remember," she said softly.

Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, but they shook their heads in equal confusion. None of them had noticed Snape twitch slightly when Harry gave Samantha his parents' names.

"You may go," said Dumbledore finally.

"Headmaster," Snape began, eyes glittering, "Potter is─"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Dumbledore replied firmly. Snape's lips curled back in a snarl of anger, but he held his tongue.

"My cat has been Petrified!" cried Filch, looking furious. "I want someone _punished!_"

Dumbledore nodded at Harry and his friends to go, turning to Filch. "We will be able to cure her, Argus," he said as they left the room, "once the mandrakes under Professor Sprout's care have matured…" The rest was cut off as the door closed behind them.

Once Harry, Ron, and Hermione had left (and Filch had been calmed), Dumbledore turned to Samantha, who was still staring blankly at the office door.

"Samantha," Dumbledore said quietly to get her attention.

She blinked. "Yes, Professor?"

"Why were you so interested in Mr. Potter's parentage?"

There was another brief silence as she considered her answer. "Because…there is something familiar about him," Samantha said slowly, a flicker of recognition in her sky blue eyes. "And I want to know what it is."

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	3. No Answers

**Author's Note: I edited Chapter 2 yesterday, so there are a few minor changes/additions, if you want to look. Many thanks to Lauren for your detailed critique! This chapter is for you. Sorry it's so short. Hope all of you are enjoying the story!**

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Chapter 3

_**No Answers**_

Samantha returned to the writing on the wall later that night after any lingering students had gone to their beds and the teachers had also left the halls. Only the ghosts were about, and they knew to leave Samantha alone when she was working.

The young woman stood before the bloody message, hands folded in front of her, head cocked to one side. To any observer, she was just standing there with a blank look on her face, but in reality, all of her senses were stretched to the limit. The taste of the air in the corridor, the scent of the students who had passed through, complete with the sharp tang of fear, the passage of that same air over the stones shivering over her sensitive skin…all of these things held a wealth of information. The only trick was sorting through it, analyzing it, picking out what was relevant and discarding the rest. A slight frown of concentration appeared on her brow. It was actually easier to do this sort of tracking outdoors where scents were sharper, crisper, clearer. Here, centuries of scent had layered over each other until it was almost impossible to pick out one alone, and the sharp copper smell of the blood on the wall drowned out the scent of the one who had put the words there.

Nearly two hours passed in motionless vigil as Samantha sorted through the information her senses brought her before she finally let out a soft sigh. There was nothing more to be learned, and what she knew was very little more than what she had already told Professor Dumbledore. That was very frustrating; it was not often that she had tasted defeat, and the sensation was a most vexing one. Although she had acted calm and collected in front of the teachers and students, Samantha was deeply troubled. The idea of someone or something roaming the halls that could attack wary animals like Mrs. Norris made her worry about the students, who were only human and therefore did not have the stealth and keen senses that animals possessed. Her charges were no longer safe.

A slight snarl of defiance curled Samantha's upper lip, and she stepped up to the wall, placing her hand on the stones. She concentrated, sending her mind into the stones, entering the slow, vast, alien consciousness that was Hogwarts. No place could experience the intense fluxes of magic associated with a wizard school and remain unaltered. This was doubly true for Hogwarts, especially since the school was built on a place of ancient power. That was part of the reason that things moved around in the castle, although Samantha herself never had any trouble navigating the ever-shifting corridors and passageways.

Ever since she could remember, she had been aware of the voices and movements of the stones. At first, she had only been peripherally aware of them, and now she could speak with them directly. However, like anything in the wizarding world, the stones seemed to have a will of their own. They could be temperamental. They did not always answer her when she asked questions, and even when they did answer, sometimes it was not related to anything she had asked, or it was an answer in terms so strange that she could not understand it. The stones did not always mark the passage of time like humans did, so their information was not always relevant to this century, let alone a few hours ago, but they had never told Samantha an untruth.

It was impossible to describe what it felt like to send her mind through the stones. It was never quite the same twice and her sense of time was always slightly skewed when she withdrew. Samantha did not know how long it was before she felt the stones… "acknowledge" her presence.

_**- ???? -**_

_:Chamber-Secrets-flash-cold-still-frozen-hidden-danger-silent-where-where?:_ Samantha asked, using images and feelings more so than actual words. Her question felt unnaturally fast and fleeting compared to the sonorous replies of the castle.

_**- …. -**_

_:Chamber-Secrets-hidden-where-where??:_

_**- STONE -**_

_:Yes-in-stone-where?:_

_**- IN THE STONES -**_

_:Where-in-the-stones?:_

_**- WAITING - **_

_:???Why-Who-What???:_

_**- WAITING -**_

Samantha let her feelings of frustration and worry fuel her thoughts, emptying them into the stones. _:!!!!!Danger-must-guard-students-danger-help!!!!!:_

The stones rumbled slightly before giving their reply. _**- NOT FOR YOU - **_

Samantha felt her mind slip free of the stones and resisted the urge to hit something. Only years of practice helped her maintain a calm exterior, schooling her features into a mask so that if anyone could see her, they would not be alarmed. The stones had once again refused to tell her anything about the Chamber of Secrets. She could go looking the hard way, but that would take a long time, and Samantha had a sinking suspicion that they did not have enough of it. Professor McGonagall had told her the legend of the Chamber built by Salazar Slytherin to "cleanse" the school of those he considered unworthy to practice magic. If the Heir of Slytherin, the only one who could control the monster rumored to live within the Chamber, had views similar to the ones expressed by Draco Malfoy, then the Muggle-borns and half-bloods in the school were in grave danger.

"Very well," the young woman said into the darkness, blue eyes burning with determination. "I will search. And heaven help the one responsible for this." With that she whirled around and disappeared into the shadows of the school.

------------


	4. An Unexpected Ally

Chapter 4

_**An Unexpected Ally**_

A week later, Colin Creevey, a little first year Gryffindor who followed Harry everywhere with his camera, was found Petrified.

The fears of the students leapt up another notch and the worry lines on the faces of the teachers became deeper and more pronounced. First years started traveling in groups and an underground trade in protective amulets sprang up, carefully hidden from the watchful eyes of their professors.

Samantha was now walking the halls in daylight as well as in darkness, although she still managed to avoid being seen by many students. The fact that she had been unable to stop the attack on Colin made her even more determined to find and stop whoever was doing this. It was during one of her daylight rounds right after Colin was found that she felt something strange. The woman paused in the hallway, hand resting on the wall, searching for whatever had caught her attention. After a moment, she began walking briskly towards the girl's bathroom haunted by the ghost called Moaning Myrtle. Most students avoided this bathroom _because of_ Myrtle, which was why Samantha wondered why she could sense students there.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting around a boiling cauldron, but leapt to their feet when Samantha strode into the bathroom.

For a moment, no one moved. Once again, Harry had the eerie sensation that Samantha was looking right at them even though he knew she couldn't see.

"So," Samantha said softly, and even though her voice was gentle, there was a strong undercurrent of disproval and steel which made Harry flinch.

"Please, Miss Samantha," Hermione pleaded. "Let me explain—"

"You are barricaded inside a bathroom no one ever uses making a highly dangerous and complicated potion, Polyjuice, judging from the smell, with a book from the Restricted section of the library," Samantha interrupted coolly. "Yes, I do believe an explanation is in order."

Shamefaced, Hermione, Ron, and Harry took turns explaining their theory that Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin behind the attacks on Mrs. Norris and Colin, but in order to confirm that they wanted to change into Slytherin students to infiltrate the Slytherin Common Room and pump Malfoy for information. If Harry and Ron changed into Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's henchmen, they could ask Malfoy anything without rousing suspicion.

Samantha listened to their explanation without further comment or change of expression. When they were done, she said nothing for a long moment, allowing the silence to be filled with the bubbling of the Polyjuice Potion.

"That…is a very good plan."

Harry looked up, blinking in confusion. "What?"

Samantha smiled. "I said that you have a very good plan," she repeated. "Fraught with foolishness and peril, but probably the best plan you could come up with under these trying circumstances. An invisibility cloak won't get you into the Slytherin common room because only Slytherin's know the password. And yes, I know about your invisibility cloak," she added, as if seeing Harry's astonished look. "Even if you did get inside," she continued, "there would be no guarantee that Draco Malfoy would talk about the Chamber of Secrets, so all in all…a very good plan."

Three sets of jaws dropped. "So…you aren't going to report this?" Harry asked cautiously.

Samantha blinked. "No."

Hermione's look of shock and fear changed to one of relief mixed with anger. "What are you playing at?" the young witch demanded.

Hermione, pipe down," Ron whispered, grabbing her arm, but Hermione shook him off, pointing an accusatory finger at Samantha.

"You come in here looking like you're about to haul us away on charges of practicing restricted magic and instead you praise us! What is going on? _Who are you?_"

For a moment, Samantha said nothing, but then she let out a quiet sign and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. "Please sit," she said quietly. "This may take some time in the telling." Glancing at one another, the three friends sat down as well, looking expectant.

Samantha's eyes gazed vacantly into the conjured flames beneath the cauldron. "I am going to tell you everything that I know," she said slowly, "and then you may decide if you want to trust me or not. That decision I leave to you, but I can promise that I will not report this, no matter what you decide." She paused.

"My name is Samantha Halfward. I work here at Hogwarts as a maid and have many duties similar to those performed by Mr. Filch, such as making the rounds at night and keeping an eye on the students. Most of the time I do not show myself to the students, though first years are most likely to catch a glimpse of me, since I am still learning to identify them by sound and scent."

"Why do you hide from the students?" Harry asked.

"How comfortable are you when you are in the halls and know that if you see Mrs. Norris then Mr. Filch cannot be far behind, popping up from out of nowhere?" Samantha asked. "It cannot be very enjoyable, always looking over your shoulder. I am more silent and secretive than Mr. Filch, as you could probably tell when we first met. Students would not feel comfortable knowing that I can follow their movements with much more precision and with greater speed than Mr. Filch."

"So you're Dumbledore's spy?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes hard.

Samantha cocked her head to one side. "I suppose you could call me that," she said. "I am the keeper of the castle. I am the shadow within the shadows that watches and waits for signs of abnormality and danger to the school. I am the protector of the students, making sure that they are safe from harm. I am a finder of things that have been lost and a gatherer of information, a spy, as you put it." She tilted her head back slightly so her eyes were level with the three students'.

"But know that I do not tell Professor Dumbledore everything. I can choose what to report and what to keep hidden. Because I trust Professor Dumbledore and his judgment, there are very few things I do not tell him. However, when someone asks me to keep a secret, I take it to the grave. I am not a tell-tale, nor am I a blackmailer." A flicker of sadness came across her face, and was gone just as quickly.

"I do not expect you to believe me," Samantha said softly, lowering her head. "You really have no reason to. But I swear that I will _not_ betray you."

Harry had the strangest feeling that, for Samantha, this was about more than just the Polyjuice Potion. For just that one instant, she had looked so sad. So lost and alone…living isolated like that… _It must be so hard to make friends_, he thought. _Does she even have any friends?_

"How long have you been at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

Samantha lifted her head. "Nine years," she said. "I was twelve when Professor Dumbledore brought me here to live."

"Where were you before that?" Ron asked curiously.

She hesitated. "I have no memory of my life before Hogwarts," Samantha replied in a low voice.

Harry stared. "But…your parents…"

"They are dead. Killed by Voldemort."

His blood froze at those words. Ron looked down, and Hermione's eyes were wide.

A hint of a smile played across Samantha's lips, but it held no warmth, only a trace of bitterness and sorrow. "Of course, I only have Professor Dumbledore's word that that is what happened, or even that 'Halfward' is my last name. I trust his words, but I only know two things for certain. One is that my first name is Samantha and the other is that my parents are both dead. Those are the two absolute truths in my life."

Harry looked at her calm face and could only imagine what kind of pain lay behind that still mask. To have lost your parents, your sight, and your memory by the time you were twelve… "I'm sorry," he said. "I—I know what it's like to lose a family."

Another smile, but one with more warmth, turned up the corners of her mouth. "Thank you, though I'm afraid I cannot offer enough condolences for your own loss. But I also believe there are two kinds of family. One is bound to us by blood and kinship while the other is formed through friendship and mutual respect. Which is more enduring?"

Looking at Ron and Hermione, Harry couldn't really find an answer. "You can't really choose one over the other," he said, "because they are both so important and become such a large part of who you are."

Samantha nodded, blue eyes filled with approval. "Well spoken, Harry," she said. The young woman then stood, looking serious once again. "Now, I am willing to help you in your endeavors to find out who is responsible for these attacks. There is a good chance that you three will find something that the teachers and I missed since you are looking at this situation from a very different perspective. I can give you directions to the Slytherin dungeons as well as providing the password. I can help you travel from one end of Hogwarts to the next with almost no chance of detection and will act as a lookout. I would offer the kitchens as a place to work on the potion, but I think people would get suspicious if they saw you running back and forth all the time. This location is a little more unobtrusive."

"Can you get us some of the ingredients for the potion?" asked Hermione.

"Such as…?"

"Boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn."

Samantha looked thoughtful. "The bicorn horn I can manage, but boomslang skin is not something I can find easily. Only Professor Snape has something like that, and I have no excuses that I could use to procure items from his stores without arousing suspicion. I am sorry."

"That's okay," said Harry. "You're doing us a big favor by not telling anyone about what we're doing."

She smiled. "I have a feeling that the three of you would not let this mystery rest even if you were forbidden from investigating."

Harry gave her a daredevil grin. "You've got that right."

Samantha chuckled. "Well then, I will leave you three to your brewing and continue my own search. I will contact you if I find anything, and you need to see me, just tap the wall and call my name."

She turned to go, but Harry jumped to his feet. "Wait!"

Her blue eyes stared into space above his head. "Yes?"

"Samantha," Harry said, "you can…I mean, if you want…would you like to join our family?"

Samantha was still for a moment as if she could not believe what she was hearing. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, the first truly genuine smile that Harry had ever seen from her, one that made her face glow with quiet beauty. "Yes," she said, voice filled with soft wonder. "Yes, I would like that very much." She bowed very to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Thank you," she said, and left Myrtle's bathroom, footsteps almost completely silent on the dirty tile.

----------


End file.
